Sometimes, you've got to believe.

Last week was, man, a week to remember.

What a traumatising week.

Training had been so-so. What I had intended to do ended up being half-baked. Strangely enough, it was doing an unplanned training for biceps that gave me the boost and pump I had been chasing. Oh, well. Shit happens.

But that was only the beginning.

Running at full tilt down the busy streets in the Golden Triangle of Kuala Lumpur must've been a sight to behold. I reckon you'd do the same if you've realised that your wallet is missing. Tearing through the Suria KLCC mall was no fun. It was crowded and people had seemed to contrive in a highly secretive and tacit way to block my way at every turn I took. My family was with me and I told them what happened and they helped by enquiring with the mall's security for help.

My mind was racing through thoughts of my IC is going to be used in drug-related crime, I'd have to cancel all my cards and worst still was having to buy a new wallet as the wallet I had lost was pretty darn nice. While the family checked with security I ran back to the gym as there was the last place I had seen my wallet. But, I knew it wasn't there because I remember distinctively I took it out to keep back the gym card. Yet, I still ran as fast as I could, hoping for a miracle.

You know how things happen for a reason? Well, stopping to catch my breath, I was approached by this gangly Indian fellow. Of course, I became wary as I was in an area (I took the shortcuts I knew which meant I went through secluded areas) where thievery had been reported. Panting, short of breath I looked at him, thinking he was lost or asking for the time. It was neither.

Indian Fellow: Sir, you are _____
Me: What??! (I was preparing to run away)
Indian Fellow: Sir, you have a very lucky face and _____
Me: (Off sprinting) What the fuck! Fuck you, man!

Traffic was relatively well-behaved so it was all right for me to criss-cross in between cars. After running for what seemed like for eternity, with lactic acid building up and muscles aching after punishing my body earlier, I felt my mobile phone ringing. I looked up to the sky, yelled silently, and answered.

If the relief emanated from me was tangible it would have been the size of a (mini) bus. The call was from the bank, informing me that the mall security had my wallet and they were asking me if I wanted to block it, just in case. From there, I called my family about it and told them I'd see them soon. Walking back to the mall, I was in a stupor. A mixture of alleviation and anger simmered in me, how on earth could I have been so careless. Crossing the roads, with beads of sweat trickling down my face, making my way turtle-like as my legs had turned to mush, I was hit a realization. I literally stopped and stood still for a while. My mind played back everything and came to the part where I encountered the Indian fellow.

What did he mean when he said those things? How could he have known I was in dire straits? Was he the kind soul that found the wallet and returned everything? I immediately dismissed him as some good-for-nothing vagabond for proclaiming me as lucky as, at that time, had lost my identity. With even more langurous movements from my legs, I willed myself to walk quickly and reclaim what was lost.

Things always happen for a reason. Sometimes you don't realise it at first but when you do, it'll strike home. Whether or not you believe in miracles or the equivalent it's entirely up to you.

As for me, on that day, I believed.

This is Chris, signing off.

P.S. To the person who found it and did what you did, you have my eternal gratitude.

Great minds think alike. Greater minds don't dress alike.

I'll be as brutally honest as I can be: I absolutely, friggin' abhor couples who wear the same outfits. It is not cute. It is not clever. It is not something to be proud of. In fact, you and your equally sloth-minded partner should bury your heads in shame.

Matching outfits only work if both are blind.

I see this trend infecting young and old. The young tend to have upturned collars and wear shorts. The old wear something similar but may share the same set of dentures. Why do they do it? They say ignorance is bliss and if that's the case these yobs are as guilty as Charlie Sheen.

The only time couples are allowed to even wear the same outfit is if it's for an event that requires them to be dressed in uniform. Apart from that, lay off the matching leotards and sequined blazers. Please, do not harm the children.

You wouldn't catch me and my girl wearing the same outfits. Never, I tell you.

Now, where did I leave that blouse...

This is Chris, signing off. 

P.S. Big news coming soon. Real soon.

Wow. It's been a while, eh?

What up, minions?

Oh, how time flies when your brain is nothing more than mush. I make no apologies for the absence, I just could not think of any worthwhile thing to say.

There is light, though. The brain is now "on" and I've a couple of things lined up in the coming weeks. Interesting times are abound, my friend.

But I must leave for now and return to my lair and meditate.

This is Chris, signing off. 

P.S. This post was brought to you by Charlie Sheen's Tiger Blood.